


Long Shot

by clgfanfic



Category: Delta Force (1986), Lethal Weapon (Movies), War of the Worlds (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-31
Updated: 2012-10-31
Packaged: 2017-11-17 10:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/550444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul Ironhorse meets and good sniper while in Vietnam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Shot

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Green Floating Weirdness #15 and later in Black Ops #7 under the pen name Sioned Dannan.

_"I'm usually a little more particular about who my friends are."_

 

"Paul, can I speak to you?"

The young captain looked up from his well-nursed warm beer. "Colonel, is there a problem?"

"Nothing an end to the war won't cure," the older man replied with a tired smile.  "My tent, thirty minutes."

"Yes, sir," Ironhorse replied.

The colonel left the makeshift officers club, a flash of bright sunlight lancing across the tent as the door opened and closed.

"Wonder what's up," Ironhorse's companion muttered.

"Your guess is as good as mine."  Paul reached for what was left of the beer, lifted it to his lips, then set it back down untouched.  "I better go find out what's going on."

"You've got twenty-seven minutes," the man countered.  "What's your rush?"

Ironhorse shot his companion a surly glower, but leaned back in his chair and sighed.  Scott McCoy, another young, talented, Special Forces officer, just like Ironhorse.  A little shorter, a little stockier, and a whole lot paler. 

Paul grinned and shook his head, then ventured another sip of his beer.  How a Cherokee and a country bumpkin from North Carolina had ended up friends was a complete mystery, but the red-haired man was just that, a friend.  And in Vietnam you couldn't have too many friends.

It was probably due to the small amount of Cherokee blood that coursed through McCoy's veins.  Like knowing like.  Ironhorse stared at the man's tanned skin and the freckles on the man's face.  _Yeah, right!_

"How much you willin' to bet the old man's got another assignment for us?"

"Us?" Paul countered.  "I didn't hear your sorry ass being told to report to the colonel's tent in… twenty-four minutes."

"He knows you're worthless out there without me," McCoy countered.

Ironhorse snorted.  "Who pulled whose butt outta the fire yesterday?"

"Hey, we had 'em right where we wanted them," Scott replied.

"In your laps?"

McCoy laughed.  "Yeah, well, if it's a mission, tell the ol' man you wanna bring your good luck charm along."

"Guess I better go find Craig, then," Paul replied.

"Hell, Windjoy's on shit-burnin' detail.  Got caught making a pass at that USO gal the Major's sweet on."

Paul's face wrinkled.  "Ugh," he said.  "Well, since I don't want to join him, I think I'll head on over and see what's what."

"Still have nineteen minutes."

"Fuck you."  Paul stood and walked out into the bright sunlight, heading directly for the colonel's tent.  _Might as well get it over with_ , he decided.  _Besides, it beats sitting around drinking lousy beer._

He stopped outside Firestone's tent, smoothed his fatigues the best he could, then called, "Knock, knock."

"Come," was the reply.

Pulling his beret off, Paul stepped inside and came to attention.  "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"At ease, Captain," the colonel said, waving him toward a chair.

Ironhorse sat.

"Captain, I've got a request here from our boys over in the Phoenix Project.  They need a small, highly skilled SF team to insert two of their people."

"The mission?"

"Classified," the colonel said, a small smile spreading across his lips.  "So keep this on the QT.  It's an assassination.  I don't think they're going to pull it off, to tell you the truth.  The shot's a thousand yards if it's an inch."

Ironhorse whistled softly and shook his head.  "They better have a damned good marksman.  You want me to get them in and out?"

Firestone nodded.  "We'll send in four choppers to create a little confusion.  Your LZ is two klicks from the target village.  The Phoenix Project sapper and his local guide will go in, do the deed and meet you back at a secondary LZ for extraction."

"How long do we wait?"

"Twenty-four hours.  If they're not back by then, get your ass on a chopper and get the hell out."

"Yes, sir."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ironhorse watched the two Phoenix Project members as they walked into the briefing room.  The young man looked about nineteen, his slightly cocky bearing and easy grin hinted at a man who was sure of his abilities, but didn't take himself too seriously.  The local guide caught Ironhorse slightly off-guard – a woman.

 _Correction_ , he thought.  _A girl.  And she's not strictly Vietnamese._

In her mid- to late-teens, she had long black hair that she wore in a single thick braid down her back.  Her features were exotic and strangely compelling.  Disconcerting pale gray eyes finished off the unusual effect.

 _Eurasian_ , he decided, but her features hinted at an interesting mix of races, and he wondered if she wasn't at least part Native American – if her high cheekbones were any indication.

The pair sat down together, speaking softly.  Her English was flawless, another indication that she was more than a true local.  They glanced his direction several times, sizing up the man who was there to get them safely in and out.  Smart.

Firestone and a representative from the Phoenix Project led the briefing, detailing the flights of the four choppers, the actual insertion, and the plans for the extraction.  The pair and Ironhorse paid close attention, only Paul and the shooter asking questions.

When they were dismissed the pair approached Ironhorse.  "Hi," the young man said.  "Martin Riggs, and this is my mission buddy, Voodoo."

"Paul Ironhorse," the captain replied, shaking hands with them both.  "I wasn't aware that the Phoenix Project was using gir— women these days."

Riggs grinned.  "What girl?"

She slugged his arm.  "He's being polite, which is more than I can say for you, Char."  She flashed Ironhorse a smile.  "I really am a local, Captain.  My mother was Eurasian—"

"And her daddy was Cajun," Riggs added with a toothy grin.

"My grandmother's family lived in a village not far from the one we're headed for."

Paul nodded.  Dual citizenship, and the CIA wasn't above using whatever resources necessary to carry out the missions it gave priority to.  "I'm going to go brief my men," he said.  "See you at the chopper."

"We'll be there," Riggs assured.  "Come on, time to go polish my gun, hon."

She rolled her eyes, but trailed after the man, muttering dark curses in French, Vietnamese, and a language Ironhorse didn't recognize.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The insertion went smoother than Ironhorse had anticipated, and that made him nervous.  Easy getting in usually meant hard getting out, and he'd take the reverse situation any day of the week.

He watched as his men quickly and silently set mortars around the perimeter, just in case they had visitors, then settled in to wait.  He checked his watch.  With luck the operatives would reach the village in under an hour.  How long it took Riggs to get the necessary shot was something altogether up to chance.

 _Quickly, Grandfather_ , he prayed silently.  There was something in the air that set him on edge, and watching his men he could see that they could feel it, too.

A wind gust plowed through the jungle, sweeping up dirt and pieces of dead plant parts, pelting the soldiers.  _Storm_ , he realized.

"Riggs better be good," Derriman whispered into his ear.  "With this wind it'll take a miracle for him to make a thousand yard shot."

Ironhorse nodded.  All they had to do was wait and hope he managed to pull it off.

It was time, and Ironhorse signaled his men to move out.  They faded into the thick jungle and headed for their extraction LZ.  His gaze flickered to his watch.  Riggs and the girl had six hours.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Reaching the extraction point, Ironhorse signaled his men into position and checked his watch again – two hours and counting.

A slight out-of-place sound triggered his reflexes and he brought his M-16 to bear on a tangle of leaves.

"Psst, this the place where we hitch a ride to the Da Nang sock-hop?"

Ironhorse's black eyes narrowed.  "Riggs?"

"Just call me sure-shot, Captain," the man said, emerging from the leaves with the girl.

"You did it?" Derriman asked.

"Sure as hell did."

"Better stow that ego, Riggs," the girl teased.  "Don't think it'll fit on the chopper with the rest of us."

Ironhorse grinned at the hurt expression that settled on the man's face.

"I'm not _that_ bad," he said softly.

"No," she agreed.  "You're worse."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The extraction and flight back to the base came off without a hitch, and Ironhorse offered a grateful "thank you" to Grandfather when he stepped off the chopper and headed to the colonel's tent.  He watched Riggs and the girl race off in the direction of the makeshift enlisted men's club, and wondered what kind of trouble they'd end up in.

Pausing outside the tent, Ironhorse called, "Knock.  Knock."

"Come."

He pulled the flap back and stepped inside, coming to attention.

"At ease, Captain," Firestone said.  He pointed at the chair.  "Take a load off, son.  How'd it go?"

"He made the shot."

"He did?" the colonel asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I'll be damned.  I didn't think it could be done.  He must be one hell of a shot."

"Yes, sir."

"Any problems?"

"Not a one," Ironhorse said.  "It was like we had all the luck on our side for a change."

"That's the way I like it," Firestone said.  "Well, you and your men take two days off.  You've earned it and the CIA's picking up the tab."

"Thank you, sir," Ironhorse said.  "But I'm usually a little more particular about who my friends are."

Firestone chuckled.  "Me, too, son, but there are times you just take what you can get and say thank you.  This is one of those times."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Ironhorse told his men and was headed back to the officer's club to see if he could find Scott or Craig when Riggs and the girl found him.

"Hey, Captain," Riggs called.  "Wait up!"

They jogged over to Ironhorse, smiles on their faces.

"Hey, just wanted to say thanks," Riggs said.  "Haven't had such a smooth mission in a long time."

"My pleasure," Ironhorse replied.

"The colonel give you a couple of days off?" she asked.

"Yeah, and I'm planning to take advantage of them," Paul said.

"Like to spend some of that advantage on a USO show?" Riggs asked.

"USO show?" Ironhorse echoed.  "I haven't heard about any show."

"It's up at I Corp," Riggs said.

"Yeah, and Marty's girlfriend is one of the organizers," the girl added.  "But don't let that scare you away.  It'll be a great show."

"I don't think—"

Riggs interrupted the captain.  "Already done, Captain.  You and your men are invited up, compliments of Air America.  You know, there's a guy there who looks a lot like me, but he's friggin' crazy."

"Like you're not?" Dom asked.

Ironhorse grinned and shook his head.  If the others already knew about this he'd better take the colonel's advice and just say thank you.  "When do we leave?"

"Now!" Riggs said, he and the girl bolting for the chopper pad.  "Last one on buys the first round!"

"Shit," Ironhorse muttered, charging after the pair.

The End


End file.
